Amelia Williams and the man who could do anything for her
by StormWolf10
Summary: Sequel to 'Amelia Pond and the boy who fell out of the tree', but that doesn't necessarily have to be read. Post- Angels Take Manhattan, title taken from that episode. In which Amy and Rory must adjust to life without the Doctor, their daughter, their friends and family in a timeline and country where nothing is familiar to them... *REPOSTED*
1. 1938

**A/N: Sequel to 'Amelia Pond and the boy who fell out of a tree'. The last chapter of the previous story has been altered slightly (alternate ending) if you want to check it out :) Reposted to see if more people review..**

Rory stumbled backwards, his head spinning. He fell to his knees and quickly took a few deep breaths to steady himself. After several long, painful moments, the spots in front of his eyes faded, and he looked around. He was on Bow Bridge, in Central Park. Rory blinked in confusion. That couldn't be right. He'd been in a cemetery, in Queens… How had he gotten here? Then, everything came flooding back to him. The gravestone with his name on, the Weeping Angel…

"Amy!" he murmured, eyes going wide.

Rory spun on his heels, looking around wildly. Amy, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't been touched by the Angel; of course she wouldn't be there. He was getting strange looks from passers-by, and Rory guessed from their clothes that he'd been dumped in the thirties, or so. Ok, Rory decided, taking a deep breath, first port of call was to find out when he was. The second port of call was to work out how to get back to his wife. He'd waited 2000 years, assembled an army for her and committed suicide with her, he wasn't giving up now.

**~StormWolf10~**

Rory had finally managed to beg a man for his used newspaper, and had found that he had landed in 1938. _1938._ It took a while for Rory to digest that information. One year before World War II. He'd be out by then, right? But the gravestone in the cemetery… His death here was written in stone. Quite literally. And Amy's name hadn't been on it. He would never see his wife again. Rory took a deep, shuddering breath as tears welled in his eyes. There was nothing he could do. He was stuck there, no way out. But then, just as Rory tossed the newspaper into a bin- Americans called then trash cans, didn't they?- he caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. His heart soared, and he set off at a run through the crowd. The red-headed woman was still slightly ahead of him, pausing every now and then to consult a map. She looked lost.

"Amy!" Rory called after the woman, hurrying towards her.

Dodging through startled Americans, Rory finally reached the woman, got a hand on her shoulder, turned her around… And stepped back in shock.

"Can I help you?" the woman- who was most definitely not Amy- asked in confusion, frowning slightly.

Rory shook his head. The woman actually looked nothing like his Amy. She wasn't even Scottish.

"No. No, sorry. I… I thought you were someone else…" Rory told the woman, attempting a weak smile as he backed away.

The woman watched in confusion as Rory turned and ran. He didn't stop running, not for a long while, not until he was back at Bow Bridge, leaning heavily on the stone as he attempted to catch his breath, a side effect from both the running and the desperation to finally let the tears fall. But Rory Williams was stronger than that. He could not- _would not_- give up hope. He'd waited 2000 years for Amy, had guarded her and kept her safe. He had summoned an army and gone to war to save Amy and their little Melody. He'd punched Hitler, fought Vampire-fish, battled dinosaurs and faced off Daleks. He could get back to Amy. He just needed to keep a clear head.

**~StormWolf10~**

Two hours later, Rory was finding it extremely difficult to keep a clear head. Thoughts were whizzing around his mind- was Amy ok, what was happening, would the Doctor keep her with him on the TARDIS or send her home alone, was River alright… All those questions, and he couldn't answer a single. Damn. One. With a sigh, Rory sank onto a bench, head in his hands. It was early evening now, and much of the park was empty, only a few businessmen passing through on their way home from work. Rory ignored the footsteps as they headed past every now and then, too emotionally drained to even raise his head. However, his eyes widened slightly as a very familiar pair of shoes stepped into his line of sight. A familiar pair of brown shoes. Attached to a familiar pair of legs that were clad in a pair of very familiar skinny jeans.

"Hey now, stupid face. What's all this crying about?"

The tone was soft, and Rory couldn't help but look up at that oh-so-familiar Scottish accent. Amy was stood in front of him eyes slightly watery, but a wide smile on her face.

"Amy!" Rory breathed, immediately on his feet and drawing her in for a tight hug. He was so relieved to have his wife back in his arms that they simply remained in silence for a few moments. The relief was short lived, however, when Rory pulled away, eyes wide "But… But what happened? The Angel…"

Amy immediately silenced her worrying husband by pressing a finger to his lips gently.

"I'm ok, Rory. I… I chose this. I chose _you_." Amy told him gently.

They appeared to be attracting a crowd now, and Rory wasn't sure whether it was their public displays of affection or their strange attire that was causing it, but he really couldn't care less.

"But the Doctor… River…" Rory began again, wide-eyed.

"It's alright. Our Melody's a brave girl. She's a good girl. She'll keep the Doctor out of too much trouble. And the Doctor always knew we'd leave for good one day." Amy replied with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, but never like this." Rory murmured "You rewrote time to be here with me, didn't you?"

Amy nodded.

"Yes. But only because this is _where I'm supposed to be_. With you. I told you before; together or not at all." Amy answered with a slight smile.

"We just left the Doctor there, didn't we? The Doctor and our daughter. Stood by our graves…" Rory whispered.

"But they'll be fine." Amy insisted again "And so will we."

Finally, Amy pulled out of Rory's arms, taking his hand in hers and beginning to tug him across the bridge.

"Come on," Amy told her husband "let's go see if we can find somewhere to stay for the night. Then, in the morning we'll worry about money."


	2. Jobs and Lists

**A/N: Reference made to my previous story 'Amelia Pond and the boy who fell out of a tree' in this chapter, but I don't think you really need to have read that.**

**Disclaimer (because I haven't done one yet): Amy's hair is red, the TARDIS is blue, in case you hadn't guessed, I don't own Doctor Who. :)**

"We have no official qualifications, Amy!" Rory hissed across the hardwood breakfast table.

"It'll be fine!" Amy insisted with a wave of her hand "We'll just start off with something small, like, I dunno, working in a shop, or something."

"Amy, I'm a trained nurse! I could be earning so much more than a shop wage." Rory pointed out, slightly hurt.

"Yeah, but how'd we know they'll accept a male nurse?" Amy hissed back, before forcing a smile as a plate of toast was placed in front of her.

"Now, what are you two whispering about, eh? Not still worrying about work, are you?" the elderly woman asked the couple with a gentle smile "Edwin and I have already told you; stay here as long as you like."

"But we can't pay you for putting us up." Rory pointed out in confusion.

"And we don't wish to be any trouble, Mrs Jefferson." Amy added.

"Oh, it's no trouble!" Mrs Jefferson replied with a smile as she bustled back over to the kitchen sink.

"We don't wish to intrude on yours and your husband's generosity." Rory announced, getting to his feet and crossing to the sink, beginning to help the old lady with the washing up.

"You don't have to do that! Go and sit down!" Mrs Jefferson told Rory with a kindly smile.

"It's the very least I can do." Rory answered "And I hope I can soon begin providing for my wife."

At that, Rory glanced over his shoulder at Amy, who was watching him with a small smile.

"Oh, I understand." Mrs Jefferson announced "My Edwin was the same when we were first married! Adamant that he could provide for us. Determined, in fact. And it must be even worse for a lovely young couple like yourselves, not even in your own country. What brought you to America? You said you didn't have any family…"

"We were travelling." Amy explained vaguely "Decided to settle down, and where better than New York?"

Mrs Jefferson chuckled at that.

"Well, if you say so." she told Amy with a smile "And I'm glad the clothes I laid out for you fit you both."

Both Amy and Rory nodded, smiling in thanks at the old lady. Mr and Mrs Jefferson had been kind enough to put Amy and Rory up for the night, paying no attention to their strange clothing or accents. The couple had bumped into Mr Jefferson the previous night on his way home from work, and after discovering they had no money or lodgings, the elderly gentleman had insisted they came home with him. It was by chance that the elderly man was walking through Central Park at all, and he'd been one of the people in the crowd that had gathered around Amy and Rory when they'd been reunited. Edwin Jefferson was a kindly man in his early sixties, close to retiring although he worked at the New York Times, having worked there all his life since leaving school. Mrs Jefferson had been just as welcoming as her husband, finding some clothes that had previously belonged to her twin children for Amy and Rory to wear until they could buy their own clothes.

"So," Mrs Jefferson piped up suddenly, turning to look at Amy "settled down to raise a family?"

Amy paled immediately, eyes wide.

"I'm… I'm sorry?" she asked in confusion.

"Are you and your husband starting a family, dear?" Mrs Jefferson asked again "A young couple like you, I'm sure you're considering children."

Amy blinked again, aware that her mouth was opening and closing but nothing was coming out. She suddenly felt dizzy and sick, and the next thing she knew, her husband was crouching in front of her, rubbing the back of her hands reassuringly.

"We, uh, we recently found out Amy can't have children." Rory admitted to the older woman quietly.

Mrs Jefferson's face softened immediately, and she hurried over, wrapping an arm around Amy's shoulders and tugging her into a motherly embrace.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. That must be hard for you." She murmured quietly.

And as visions of River filled Amy's mind, all she could do was nod.

**~StormWolf10~**

Later that day, Amy arrived back at the Jeffersons' house rather disheartened. She hadn't expected much from the time period, and knew that the majority of women were either housewives or worked as school teachers or nurses, but it had been worse than she'd expected. She chalked it up to her 'unusual' accent, and for a moment or two, she could very easily have been seven years old again and back in the playground of Leadworth Primary. Only this time, Rory wasn't going to fall out of a tree to distract her. At least, she hoped he didn't. The only job Amy had been able to find had been in a small corner shop, and even that had gone to pot when she realised she had no idea how to work the currency. With a sigh, she headed upstairs to the modest-sized bedroom she and Rory were staying in. She was so preoccupied with staring out the window that she didn't hear the door open and Rory slip in.

"How did you get on?"

Amy jumped as Rory wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Awful." Amy admitted, pouting "Please tell me you did better?"

"Possibly," Rory replied, pulling a face "I've got a job as a nurse at the nearby hospital."

"But that's great!" Amy told him, her face lighting up.

Rory shrugged, running a hand through his hair and pulling away from Amy.

"I suppose so. It's mostly cleaning bedpans and stuff though." He told her, grimacing.

"It's better than nothing." Amy pointed out "I almost ended up in a shop, but I have no idea how to work the currency over here."

Rory sighed.

"Yet another thing to add to the list." He muttered.

"The list?" Amy echoed, brow furrowing.

Rory nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I figured we should probably start making a list of everything we need to sort out," Rory explained, pulling a scrappy bit of paper out of his pocket.

"What've you got on there so far?" Amy asked, moving over to sit beside her husband.

She reached for the jacket she'd been wearing the day before, and faltered, cursing under her breath.

"What's the matter?" Rory asked in confusion.

"The Doctor still has my glasses." Amy explained quietly, trying to pass it off with a shrug.

But Rory knew his wife well enough to tell that she was upset. And it wasn't about her glasses. Quickly, he tugged her in for a hug.

"He's all alone, Rory!" Amy gasped out, burying her face in her husband's shoulder.

"He's got Melody." Rory reminded his wife gently "And like you said, our Melody's a good girl, she'll keep an eye on him, protect him."

Amy nodded miserably, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before taking a deep breath.

"So," Amy piped up weakly, forcing a smile "what was this list you were telling me about?"

Rory paused for a moment, unsure whether to just carry on talking, but one look at his wife told him she'd be thankful of the distraction, no matter how small.

"Well, we need to sort out everything we'll need to live here." Rory explained, arm going around Amy's shoulders "Not just food and water and clothes and stuff, but other things. I've not gotten very far with the list yet, but I've got a few things. We need jobs, a house, health insurance…"

Rory trailed off as it sank in.

"We're really going to be living here, aren't we?" he asked his wife quietly, brow furrowing.

Up until then, Rory had been keeping such a clear head and concentrating on getting money and a roof over their heads and making sure Amy was ok that it hadn't actual sunk in. they would be living in 1938 New York. This was their home now, and no matter where they moved, no matter where they went in the world, it would always be in this time stream. He would never see his Dad again, never get to say goodbye to him, or tell him that he really, truly loved him. Hell, Brian didn't even know about Melody… That life was gone, it had gone the moment the angel touched them, and it was never coming back. Rory let Amy tug him closer, his arms going around her as they hugged each other. And the list, now crumpled, fell to the floor. Forgotten.


	3. Small house, preferably with yard

**A/N: New chapter! Sorry it's taken so long, but I've been swallowed up in exams…**

Amy and Rory followed the estate agent somewhat nervously. After months of living with the very kind Jeffersons, the couple had accumulated enough funds to buy a small house. They had given the estate agent their requirements, and if all went well, they would hopefully be in their new house by Christmas. However, they'd seen several houses so far, and none of them had been right for them. Admittedly, the Doctor had spoiled them with the large house he'd bought when he'd left them in London. There was no way they could afford something like that on Rory's nurse's wage and Amy's shop assistant wage, and they were struggling to get their head around it. It also didn't help that they'd only given the estate agent one thing to go on- small house, preferably with yard. It had to be a small house, they couldn't afford anything bigger than a two-bed house, but Amy was loath to give up her garden. She'd been spoiled growing up in the peaceful village of Leadworth- as boring as it had been, she'd also become fond of sunbathing in the garden during the summer months, and had even tried a spot of gardening at hers and Rory's house.

"As you can see," the estate agent told them as he led them into the terraced house and they found themselves in a moderately-sized hallway "you have a good-sized front room here to your left with original fireplace, and down here you have a kitchen and dining room, perfect for entertaining. The bathroom is upstairs, along with two bedrooms, the larger of which is at the back of the house. You do have a small yard outside, which could be brightened up with a few pot plants."

Amy and Rory nodded, looking around the house. Just as the estate agent had said, it was all 'good-sized'. Which, unfortunately, was rather small, even compared to the houses they'd grown up in in Leadworth. Amy glanced at her husband, but found that Rory's face was impassive as he gazed around the house.

"I'll leave you two to have a look around on your own, then." The estate agent continued, looking a bit worried at Rory and Amy's silence.

Rory nodded, and the estate agent excused himself to go and stand in the back yard. Once they were alone, however, Rory turned straight to Amy.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"It's small." Amy admitted, wrinkling her nose slightly "It's not bad. I could live in it. It's just… I think even our flat was bigger than this."

Rory hummed in agreement, heading down the hallway to look at the kitchen.

"Kitchen's a bit smaller than we had at the house, but probably the same size as our flat in Leadworth." Rory reported, nodding slightly.

The couple fell into silence as they poked their head around the dining room door, nodding in approval before heading upstairs to check out the bedrooms and bathroom. Eventually, they joined the estate agent in the yard, but not before having a quiet chat about the house. The yard itself was small, but caught the sun beautifully, and was a good enough size for a garden table and chairs for the summer months.

"Well?" the estate agent prompted, sounding a little nervous.

Amy winced slightly at that, knowing that she and Rory hadn't been the easiest couple to please. However, when she glanced at Rory, she couldn't help but smile slightly, and she nodded.

"We'd like to make an offer," Rory announced calmly, smiling slightly.

**~StormWolf10~**

Amy and Rory's offer on the house was accepted, and they were moving in within the month. They still didn't have many possessions apart from clothes, and a lot of their furniture was second-hand. But what mattered was that they now had a house. They could settle down, start living their lives, no matter how far in the past they were.

"This is our house." Amy murmured as they set down the last box of possessions in the sitting room.

Rory wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, tugging her in for a hug.

"Yeah. It is." Rory agreed "I bet that estate agent's relieved to have finally gotten rid of us!"

Amy snorted at that, and was soon shaking with silent laughter. Rory grinned at his wife, squeezing her waist. This was probably the first time he'd seen Amy properly laugh, properly smile, since they realised they'd never see the Doctor and River again, Rory realised. It still hurt sometimes, when they stopped to think about it. When they stopped to think about Brian, and Tabitha and Augustus, in Leadworth with no clue that they'd never see their children again. But it couldn't be helped. Amy's laughter had died down now, and Rory took a deep breath before pulling away from Amy.

"Come on then," Rory told her "let's start unpacking."


	4. Four Placemats

**A/N: This chapter was so fun to write! But hopefully it was start becoming less angsty after this chapter (with the exception of one or two… Oh, who am I kidding?! I think this story is just going to be ANGST ANGST ANGST)**

Amy was humming a Christmas tune under her breath as she dished up Christmas dinner. Rory was in the dining room, setting the table for Christmas dinner- Amy didn't trust him to be near the food without sneaking a bite. Placemats, cutlery, wine glasses; everything was positioned perfectly on their small dining table. It looked somewhat dwarfed despite the modest size of the dining room, but it had been all Amy and Rory could afford when they'd bought the table. They'd only lived in their house for about ten weeks, but it was already Christmas.

"How's the table coming along, Rory?" Amy called to her husband as she finished dishing up the dinner.

"Just about ready," Rory replied, causing Amy to jump as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Didn't hear you come in." She told him as he nuzzled her neck.

Amy smiled to herself, but then quickly pulled herself from Rory's grasp, picking up the two plates.

"Come on, we don't want to eat a cold Christmas dinner!" she told him with a grin, beginning to walk towards the dining room.

"I'll just grab the wine." Rory told her, heading for the fridge.

He quickly grabbed a bottle of what he knew to be Amy's favourite wine, and headed to the dining room. However, Rory stopped dead at the sight of Amy sat at the table, wide-eyed and trying not to cry.

"Amy?" Rory prompted gently, rushing forward and abandoning the bottle of wine on the table in favour of crouching in front of his wife "What's the matter?"

Amy took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Nothing. I'm just being stupid." Amy told him, attempting a weak smile.

Rory, however, just looked at her sceptically, causing Amy to sigh. She knew she had to tell Rory what was wrong.

"Rory," she began slowly, timidly meeting his confused gaze "you set four placemats."

Rory blinked, processing the words. It took a little while, but after a minute or so, Amy saw realisation dawn on her husband's face.

"Oh." Rory murmured "Oh."

And then he looked at the table. The table he'd set. And sure enough, there were four placemats. Four placemats, four sets of cutlery, four wine glasses. Four seats, one for him, one for Amy, one for Melody and one for the Doctor. They hadn't made that big a deal about setting a place for Melody before- River always turned up whenever she felt like it, and it was usually in the evenings, so she never really ate with them. But the Doctor… The Doctor was a different story. Every Christmas, every year they set a place for him. Just in case he decided to turn up for Christmas dinner, decided to pop by. Or even if he'd just gotten his dates muddled up. Amy and Rory didn't care; they wanted him to feel welcome, always. But they had no need for that seat now. They had no need for the other empty seat, either. Because no one would ever turn up to fill them. There would be no cheeky smiles as Melody wandered into their backyard, reminding Amy of a long-ago adventure that she'd just come from, or of the Doctor beaming at them before inviting himself into their house, all long gangly limbs and tweed jackets. No more silly hats, or River turning up to shoot said silly hats, no more Doctor taking apart their toaster for spare parts, or playing on their Wii. No more River, teasing them about spoilers, assuring them she'd be alright. It was just the pair of them. Rory almost jumped a mile when Amy nudged him in the chest. He looked at his wife, expecting tears. But there were none. Instead, Amy just gave him a sad smile before nodding at his chair.

"Come on. The dinner's getting cold."


	5. Amelia Williams, Journalist

**A/N: Gah! Sorry for the lack of updates… Anyway, we're halfway through this story now! (Yes, there's only 10 chapters, unlike the previous story with 20) Also, tiny chapter is tiny. But hey! Oh, and **_**Summer Falls**_** just had to get a mention, it's canon!**

"Rory?"

Rory groaned, burrowing back under the thin duvet.

"Rory?"

Rory ignored the voice, pushing his head further into the pillow.

"Rory!"

Rory yelped as Amy punched him hard in the arm. Shooting into an upright position, he rubbed at the sore spot and glared at his wife.

"What was that for?!" he asked incredulously.

"Well, you wouldn't wake up!" Amy retorted, frowning.

"Amy, it's…" Rory paused to check the clock in the dim gloom of their bedroom "two am. Of course I wouldn't wake up!"

Amy glowered at her husband, and Rory sighed.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" he asked tiredly.

Almost immediately, Amy grinned.

"I know what I want to do." She told him.

"Want to do when?" Rory asked, his brain still foggy with sleep.

"As a job!" Amy told him, frowning at him again.

"Oh. Right. What?"

"I want to be a journalist." Amy announced with a grin.

Rory stared at his wife for a moment, unsure what to say. And then, he spoke.

"Ok. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Later on, Rory decided that he really should have seen that second punch coming.

**~StormWolf10~ **

Within a week of deciding that she wanted to become a journalist, Amy was working at the New York Times. Granted, she was only running errands for the other journalists, but it was a start, and that's what mattered. Edwin Jefferson- the kind man who had, along with his wife, taken them in when they'd first arrived in 1930's New York- had pulled some strings to get her the job, insisting that it was the least he could do for a 'lovely young woman' and that the company owed him a favour anyway, what with him having worked there for forty-nine years.

"But you're enjoying it, yeah?" Rory asked one morning over breakfast.

Amy grinned and nodded excitedly.

"It's not that much different to the job I was doing before," Amy shrugged "only I'm not writing as much. And it's not travel articles. And actually, I'm just doing filing and making coffee…" She grimaced at that, before adding "But hopefully it won't be long before they give me my own articles, and _then_ it'll be like the job I was doing before."

"Well, yeah, but like you said, you can work your way up. And we're getting paid. Let's face it, right now we just need the money." Rory pointed out with a sigh.

Amy nodded.

"I might do some writing, too," she continued as she bit into a slice of toast.

"Writing?" Rory echoed, brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Amy nodded "you know, story writing, kids books, that sort of thing."

"Yeah?" Rory asked.

Again, Amy smiled and nodded.

"Well, I think we've seen enough weird and wonderful things with the Doctor to cobble together a children's story book."

**~StormWolf10~**

Later that evening, after both Amy and Rory had gotten home from work, and they'd had dinner and done the washing up, Amy sat down at the dining table. She had a piece of paper in front of her and a pen in one hand. And that night, Amelia Williams began writing her first book. Summer Falls.


	6. The Life We Lost

**A/N: Angst, angst, angst. Nothing else to say about this chapter really… Read and review!**

"Rory? Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I can't sleep."

Both Amy and Rory were lying on their backs, staring up at their darkened bedroom ceiling. Although they knew everything was going to work out fine, they were still more than a little shaken by the news they'd heard on the radio that morning during breakfast. Great Britain had declared war on Germany. It was September 1st 1939, and although Rory and Amy had always known that this day was going to come, it was still a shock. Of course, they had another two years of peace in America until the Americans joined the war in 1941, but there was still something definitely terrifying about knowing exactly what was going to happen. So many of their neighbours were convinced that the war would be short, that America wouldn't have to get involved at all. How wrong they all were. Rory had wanted to yell and scream at them when he heard some of the Doctors talking about it on the ward earlier in the day, had wanted to tell them that hundreds of thousands of innocent people would be killed, that millions of civilians would lose their lives, that husbands, sons, fathers, brothers would be lost in the six-year conflict. But no one would believe him. And that made it even more terrifying.

"Do you ever wonder what's going to happen to us during this war?" Amy asked suddenly, frowning at the ceiling.

She felt Rory shrug beside her, and she finally turned onto her side to face him.

"I mean, yeah, we know we both die years from now, but… What if one of us gets hurt? Or injured?" Amy's voice was quiet, her eyes glazing over as horrendous scenes flashed through her mind.

"I don't know." Rory admitted softly.

The married couple descended into silence again.

"Amy," Rory piped up suddenly "do you… Do you ever feel like we're forgetting?"

"Forgetting?" Amy echoed, a frown appearing on her face as she sat up.

"Yeah." Rory nodded "You know, forgetting about the life we lost, about our friends… Our family."

"You're not just talking about the Doctor and Melody, are you?" Amy sighed.

Rory shook his head, and Amy reached for the bedside lamp, switching it on. It was then that Amy saw that Rory's eyes were damp. He'd been crying.

"Oh, Rory." She sighed, shifting over in the bed to hug her husband, urging him to sit up.

"It's just… Sometimes, I hear someone say something in the street, or at work, and it reminds me of Dad. And then… And then I realise… I can't _quite_ remember the sound of his voice anymore, can't remember how he used to say my name, or how he used to hug me when I was a kid…" Rory took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked over at his wife "I'm forgetting him, Amy. My own father. And I can't even remember the sound of his voice."

"I… I guess I'd never thought about it," Amy admitted quietly, brow furrowing as tears began to well in her own eyes "didn't _let_ myself think about it. But every week, every day, every _hour_ we spend here… The less I remember about my parents too. And Brian. I can't quite remember the way my Dad would laugh, or the feel of my Mum's hand when she made me hold hands to cross the road… Can't quite remember what it felt like for them to hug me…"

Amy broke off, looking over at her husband.

"And they're never going to know we're here, are they?" Amy finished quietly "Never going to know that we're both alive, both well, both stuck in 1939 America, with Britain declaring war on Germany and Hitler threatening to take over every country he can get his hands on. Because, to them, that's just history. Something their parents told them about. And yet here we are. Stuck in the middle of it with no way out."

"At least we know Dad will keep watering the pot plants." Rory joked quietly.

Amy smiled slightly at that, but neither one of them laughed.

"We never got to tell Dad about Melody." Rory realised suddenly, the pair of them looking at each other with wide eyes.

"My parents didn't know either." Amy realised, voice soft "And now they never will."


	7. Anthony Brian Williams

**A/N: Only one more chapter to write up after this, as the final chapters have already been written… OH GOD! I DON'T WANNA LET IT GO!**

It had been eight years. Eight years since they'd been stranded in 1930's New York. And in that time, the Ponds- no, the _Williams_- had made a new life for themselves. They'd made it through World War II, the whole country banding together in an attempt to prevent the war casualties from becoming too high. And, in all that time, no matter how much danger they'd been in, Rory and Amy knew the Doctor couldn't come and just whisk them away in the TARDIS. He could never do that again. And they'd accepted that. It had been difficult, and it had taken eight years, but they had accepted it. It didn't stop the pain, though. It didn't stop the pain that they were struggling to recall their parents' voices as each day passed, that they would never see their friends again, that the Doctor would never suddenly turn up on their doorstep again. But they had to move on with their lives.

**~StormWolf10~**

Rory Williams- _Doctor_ Rory Williams, thank you very much- sighed, stretching his back and wincing. It had been yet another long shift at the hospital, and he couldn't wait to get home to Amy. His wife was doing well, and had moved up several positions in her job at the New York Times, even having her own small column to write once a week. Rory himself had taken up gardening in their small back yard, with Amy helping too, but Rory could tell that his wife wasn't happy. Not really. He'd known Amy long enough to know that Amy wanted something… Something he couldn't help with. They'd been taking a walk through the park the previous weekend, and Rory hadn't missed the look of longing on his wife's face as she watched a young couple interact with their baby daughter. Rory's heart ached, knowing that they'd missed out on so much of Melody's life, and that Kovarian had destroyed all other chances of them having children. But ever since then, Rory had been very silently coming up with- what he hoped was- a perfect solution. And tonight, he decided, tonight he was going to broach the subject with Amy. He took his usual route home, and when he unlocked the front door of their Queens home, he could hear Amy in the kitchen, humming away to herself.

"I'm home," he called out.

Amy appeared from the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist, covering most of her long brown skirt, her pale blouse dusted with flour. She had a smile on her face, and her hair was up in a bun. She looked like a textbook American housewife.

"You're just in time for dinner," Amy told her husband with a grin, walking over to him and kissing him.

"Good." Rory told her, nodding "I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Amy asked, brow furrowing.

"It can wait until after dinner." Rory told her.

Amy looked even more confused at that, but nodded and headed back to the kitchen to dish up dinner.

**~StormWolf10~**

It was actually several hours after the meal, nearly eleven o'clock when Rory finally plucked up the courage to tell Amy his idea.

"I, err, noticed the other day in the park… You were watching that family," Rory began carefully.

"Well, yeah. It's not a crime, is it?" Amy asked, tone slightly sharp. It was still a sore subject for the pair of them.

"Of course it's not," Rory soothed with a gentle smile "but I've had an idea. We both know that you can't… You can't have children. But that… That doesn't stop us adopting."

Amy's face remained stoic for several moments as she thought about Rory had just said. Rory himself was watching nervously, wondering if he'd gotten everything wrong, wondering if Amy didn't _want_ to adopt, wondering if it was actually all _him_, that it was him who longed for a little boy or girl to run around the house, to watch as Amy brushed ginger curls into pigtails, or helped set up a train track…. And then, _then_, Amy smiled. And it was the most wonderful thing Rory had seen- and felt- in so, so long. He let out a relieved breath that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, and grinned back.

"You do realise that we wouldn't be the youngest of parents, right?" Amy asked after a while, although her smile never faltered.

Rory shrugged, still grinning, not caring. The pair of them were on the wrong side of thirty-five, closer to forty than either of them would care to admit.

"We're thirty-eight, Amy, I think we've still got enough years left to raise a child." Rory replied calmly after a while.

Amy laughed, and the pair descended into a happy silence that lasted several minutes.

"Are we really doing this?" Amy asked after a while.

"If you want." Rory replied, sobering slightly.

"Oh, Rory Arthur Williams," Amy told her husband with a grin, "I want!"

**~StormWolf10~**

Fate, it seemed, was on their side. Barely days after they had decided they would look into adoption, a small baby was brought into the New York hospital Rory worked at. He'd barely been on shift ten minutes when a member of the public rushed in with the tiny, pale body wrapped in ratty blankets. Rory had launched straight into full doctor mode, examining the infant tenderly, monitoring its breathing and cleaning it up- in which time learning that 'it' was _most certainly_ a 'him'- before weighing the little bundle and took him up to the Paediatric ward. The little mite couldn't have been more than a few hours old at least, Rory told the doctors on the children's ward when he got up there; the umbilical cord had still been attached to the struggling infant, and his paper-thin skin was still covered in afterbirth. The person who'd brought the baby in- a young businessman- explained that he'd found the child in a box, wrapped in the blankets and left in a doorway. Clearly, the parent- probably a young, single Mother- had thought it better to leave their newborn son in the hope that someone would find and care for him, rather than attempt to raise the boy herself. It wasn't until the paediatric nurse had to all but wrestle Rory for the fragile little bundle that Rory realised something; he didn't want to let the little boy go. There'd been no identification with the child, and Rory's eyes widened as he finally realised something. He carefully handed the boy to the nurse, before running for the door again, yelling "Keep him safe until I get back!"

**~StormWolf10~**

"Rory, I _do_ have to work as well you know," Amy grumbled as she allowed her husband to tug her down the hospital corridor.

"I know, I know, but… Just… Look!" Rory told Amy, finally bringing her to a stop outside a large window.

Peering through the window, Amy blinked.

"They're babies." Amy noted in confusion.

"Yes, but look at this one, right here, the closest to the window," Rory instructed.

Amy looked. It was the baby boy that Rory had been so reluctant to hand over just forty-five minutes previously.

"It's a baby boy." Amy noted, still not entirely sure what her husband was getting at.

"Yep. He was brought in by a young businessman about an hour and a half ago. He was found in a cardboard box in a doorway, no way to identify his parents. All alone…" Rory trailed off, looking at Amy.

It was then that everything slotted into place in Amy's mind.

"Are you suggesting…?" she asked, trailing off and looking at the baby again.

"That we adopt him?" Rory finished, eyebrow arched "Yes I am. If you want."

"But… But we've gotta sort out documentation, and a social worker, and, and…" Amy trailed off, lost.

"The hospital works with several social workers who can help us with the adoption process." Rory told his wife gently.

**~StormWolf10~**

Rory couldn't help but smile as he watched Amy rock the baby boy in their arms. Within fifteen minutes, it had been arranged that they could sort out the adoption paperwork and have the boy with them by the end of the next week.

"We'll have to sort a nursery out," Rory pointed out to his wife quietly, watching her with the- their- baby.

"Yeah," Amy replied quietly "and I'll have to sort out work."

Rory frowned at that, and Amy looked up, smiling.

"Well, someone's gonna have to stay home with this little one." Amy pointed out.

"You're… You're going to stop working?" Rory asked, perplexed.

"Well, we can't afford a nanny!" Amy laughed quietly.

Rory shrugged, realising his wife was right.

"We need to name him, too." Amy added "You can pick."

"Me?" Rory stuttered, not expecting that.

"Well, yeah. I picked Melody." Amy shrugged.

"Oh. Ok." Rory replied, dumb-founded.

There was a pause of several minutes, before Rory spoke again.

"How about Anthony?"

Amy thought for a few moments before looking at the baby boy in their arms, smiling and nodding.

"Yeah." She agreed.

Rory grinned, moving to gently lift the baby into his arms.

"I was thinking," Amy began as she handed the baby to her husband "about a middle name."

"Oh?" Rory asked.

"Yeah." Amy replied "I was thinking… Brian. For your Dad."

Almost immediately, Rory felt tears spring to his eyes.

"Oh god," he muttered "I'm not crying again! Not again! I'm definitely, _definitely_ going to be cool this time!"

"Crying Roman with a baby," Amy echoed with a small chuckle "definitely cool."

Grinning, Rory looked down at the boy in his arms.

"Welcome to the family, little one." He whispered gently to the baby "Welcome to the family, Anthony Brian Williams."


	8. Melody Pond, Superhero

**A/N: New chapter! Read and review :)**

Anthony Williams held the photograph carefully in his hands, studying it intently. It was a photo he'd studied many times before, a wonderful colour image of his parents and a blonde, curly-haired woman. The photograph was a private one, kept in his parents' room so that it was away from prying eyes- it would raise too many questions. And these were all questions that Anthony had asked. The ten year old couldn't quite understand it, but he knew that the blonde, curly-haired woman was his big sister. She was a time traveller, married to his parents' best friend the Doctor. Anthony wasn't stupid, he knew that he would never meet his sister, but his parents told him bedtime stories. Bedtime stories about their adventures with the Doctor, his brother-in-law, and his sister Melody.

As he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Anthony started, wide-eyed as he slipped the photograph back into its special hiding place between the pages of a book Amy kept on her bedside table. Anthony didn't know why he was panicking so much; his parents didn't mind him touching the photo as long as he was careful with it. And he was always careful.

"Anthony?" he heard his Dad call.

"Y- Yes?" Anthony called back shakily as he got to his feet and dusted the dirt off his trousers.

Rory's head popped round the door, and he smiled at his son.

"Dinner's ready." Rory told him.

Anthony nodded, heading for the door. Rory ruffled his son's light brown hair as he passed, and followed the little boy downstairs.

**~StormWolf10~**

Anthony was silent for most of the rest of the evening, his young face set in a permanent scowl as he thought hard. Eventually, as Amy and Rory were tucking him into bed for the night, they decided to ask him what was wrong.

"Nothing," Anthony replied, offering his parents a small smile.

Amy raised her eyebrow sceptically at the little boy, and sat on the edge of his bed.

"You know you can tell me and your Father anything, yeah?" Amy reminded her son gently.

Rory nodded, and Anthony paused for a few moments before speaking.

"Melody… She's Melody Pond, right?" Anthony asked uncertainly.

His accent was a strange one, most prominently American, with a small amount of Rory's accent and a hint of Amy's strong Scottish accent. Rory nodded at his son, unsure where the conversation was going.

"Yes," Rory replied slowly "why are you asking?"

"I'm a Williams." Anthony told them factually.

"That's right," Amy nodded, smoothing her son's hair back from his forehead "that's because that's your Dad's last name, and I married him."

"I know, but… You said… You said that 'Melody Williams' was a Geography teacher, but 'Melody Pond' was a superhero." Anthony recalled from the numerous stories his parents had told him "I'm a Williams."

There was a pause, and then Anthony added quietly.

"And a fake one, at that."

Amy's breath caught in her throat, and she looked at her husband, who looked equally as lost. They'd thought that telling Anthony he was adopted would be the best thing to do, and the boy had taken it well, known that Amy and Rory were still his parents, they loved him as their own. But now, now they were beginning to realise that it maybe hadn't been such a good idea.

"You, Anthony Brian Williams, are not a fake." Rory told his son gently, encouraging the boy to look at him.

Anthony still looked uncertain, his eyes wide and damp.

"You'll be amazing, sweetheart," Amy added with a soft smile "the best you can be. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

The ten year old managed a small- and very tired- smile.

"Now, don't worry about that now," Rory told his son "you need to get some sleep."

"Story?" Anthony managed sleepily, his eyes already shut.

Amy and Rory shared a small smile over their son's body, and soon Anthony was falling asleep with his parents' voices in his ears. They told him about travelling among the stars, about an impossible astronaut, about dinosaurs on a spaceship. They told him about how, one day when he was older, he could become anything he wanted, no limitations. And they told him about his sister, his big sister who would love to meet him, who'd play with him and protect him from the bullies at school. About Melody Pond, superhero.


	9. Queens Cemetery

**A/N: I'm so, so sorry about this chapter :') Bring tissues!**

Queens Cemetery, 1989.

It was raining. And cold. And that just made everyone even more miserable. Then again, Amy decided, even if the weather had been lovely and warm, everyone would have still been miserable. Because today was the day she buried her husband, Rory Arthur Williams. The pair had steadfastly avoided the cemetery for fifty one years, but they couldn't avoid it any longer. Dressed all in black, and clutching Anthony's hand tight in her own, Amelia Williams stood at her husband's graveside. Anthony was holding a black umbrella over his Mum's head in an attempt to keep her dry, even though his own light brown hair was slicked down by the rain, his suit sticking to his body as the rainwater weighed it down. He shifted uncomfortably in his wet clothes and glanced over at his Mum. Amy was staring at the gravestone, eyes downcast and wet. She'd known this day was coming. They'd both known it, for years. She and Rory had always known it would end like this, had known it as soon as they saw the gravestone. But that didn't make it any easier.

"Mum?" Anthony asked quietly, squeezing her hand.

Amy managed a weak smile and a glance at her son, but that was all. As tears began to fall down her cheeks, they were masked and hidden by the droplets of water cascading off the umbrella. Amy had never been more grateful for the rain.

**~StormWolf10~**

Queens Cemetery, 1994.

Five years on, Anthony Brian Williams couldn't help as a small, sad chuckle escaped him as the rain began to pour. The vicar gave him a bit of a strange look at that, and Anthony schooled his expression. He was stood on his own, and he couldn't help but feel a little envious as he saw small clusters of his parents' friends stood around the grave, clinging to their husbands, their wives. And Anthony Williams was alone. It felt wrong, he decided eventually, it felt wrong that Melody wasn't there, that his sister couldn't be there with him. But that was the way it had to be, he supposed. He'd learned long ago not to question his parents' and sister's confusing lifestyle, not to question that his brother-in-law could never come to visit, not to mention it to anyone else. And so, as the coffin of Amelia Williams was committed to the ground, Anthony Williams stood, tall and sombre in his black suit, alone. His hand momentarily went to his pocket, fingering the envelope his father had entrusted him with five years previously. It was a letter to his Grandfather, his namesake, Brian Williams. And it was up to Anthony to deliver that letter, in over a decade's time. He didn't know what was in the letter, but Anthony guessed it explained who _he_ was, at the very least. As the coffin was finally lowered into the ground, Anthony sniffed and watched as the hole was filled in. The next few minutes were filled with people giving him their condolences before, finally, Anthony was alone with his parents. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and, ignoring the muddy ground, knelt down.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad." He began, feeling a little self conscious "I… I don't really know what to say!"

Anthony paused for a moment or two, before continuing.

"Melody picked up the afterword for the book. She couldn't stay for the funeral, but she sends her love."

There was another pause, and tears finally began to fall from Anthony's eyes.

"I… I miss you both. And I love you."

And Anthony sat there, in the rain, for the next three hours.

**~StormWolf10~**

Queens Cemetery, 2012.

Eighteen years into the future and seventy four years into Amy's and Rory's past, Melody Pond- or Melody Williams, River Song, Mels whatever she was to be referred to as now- watched as the Doctor openly sobbed over her parents' grave. Tears were welling in her own eyes, as she thought about all the things she'd still had to learn about her parents. All those days, now lost, never to see her parents again. She'd at least managed to keep it together long enough to back into the TARDIS, grabbing a large mirror the ship had thoughtfully provided to place it in front of the Weeping Angel. Luckily, it hadn't been able to get too close to the distressed Time Lord, and there would be time to actually deal with the statue later on. By now, the Doctor was on his knees in front of Amy and Rory's grave, sobbing and yelling that it just wasn't fair. River started forward, blinking away her own tears to rest a hand on the Doctor's tweed-covered shoulder.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up, eyes red-rimmed and pleading as he looked up at River, heartsbroken.

"I promised myself I wouldn't let it end this way." The Doctor whispered, broken "I promised myself it wouldn't end with me standing over their graves."

"There was nothing you could do." River told him, shaking her head as her own tears continued to fall.

"But I brought them here!" the Doctor argued, getting to his feet "I was the one who brought them here! I wasn't ready to let them go, wasn't ready to let them settle down! And Brian all but pushed them into the TARDIS, telling them to go and save planets, have adventures…"

The Doctor trailed off, walking away and taking a deep breath before spinning on his heels to face River again.

"How can I go about saving planets if I can't even save my friends?"

River opened her mouth to reply, to reassure her husband, to tell him that her parents were safe. But the words died in her throat. She couldn't respond. The next thing she knew, the Doctor's arms were wrapped around her, warm and comforting, and she finally broke down. Really, truly, properly. And the pair of them stood over her parents' grave and sobbed.

**~StormWolf10~**

Queens Cemetery, 2012.

"So this is where they're buried?"

Anthony Williams nodded, managing a small and- he hoped- reassuring smile. He had done as he was asked, delivered the letter to his Grandfather. Not that anyone would guess Brian was his Grandfather- at sixty-six, Anthony was older than he was. But that was the perils of time travel for you. Anthony watched in silence as Brian stepped forward, making his way towards the grave.

"How long?" Brian asked quietly, not looking up from his son and daughter-in-law's gravestone "How long since they were here? In my time?"

"No more than a month ago." Anthony replied, making his way over to the gravestone.

Brian nodded, still staring at the gravestone as he crouched in front of it.

"Right, right." He muttered.

Then, slowly, tentatively, Brian reached out. His fingers brushed over the lettering on the gravestone, tracing his son's name gently. He smiled wryly.

"Eighty-two." Brian mused quietly "Older than me."

Then the small smile slipped from Brian's face, and he straightened up, facing Anthony.

"And where was the Doctor?" he asked, his voice remarkably calm.

"In the TARDIS. It was parked just over there." Anthony informed his Grandfather, pointing a little way away "Him and Melody- River. They couldn't get out here in time to stop it. Mum went willingly, of course, she went after Dad."

Brian smiled slightly at that, nodding. Then he paused.

"Melody?" he asked.

"My sister." Anthony answered, nodding "The Doctor's wife. She was born Melody Pond, but changed her name to River Song. It's all rather complicated, she was taken from Mum and Dad when she was a baby, that's why you never met her. That's also why Mum and Dad couldn't have any other children. Something happened when Melody was born… They didn't like to talk about it."

"I have a granddaughter too?" Brian asked quietly, brow furrowing.

"That's right."

Both Brian and Anthony looked up, one man recognising the voice and the other not.

"Doctor." Brian said to the man as the Time Lord made his way over to them, followed by a woman.

"Hello, Brian." The Doctor replied.

Neither man smiled, and Anthony watched the exchange silently. He recognised the Doctor from his Mother's drawings, from the stories they used to tell him at bedtime. A moment later, Anthony turned to the woman now at his side.

"Hello, Melody." He greeted his sister with a small smile.

"Hello, little brother." River replied with a smile, before looking over at Brian "And you must be my Grandfather."

"I… I suppose I must." Brian agreed, watching River carefully.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Brian turned back to the Doctor, glaring.

"You promised me." He reminded the Time Lord, trying desperately to keep his voice from trembling "You said, you said 'Not them. Not them, Brian. Never them.' And now look where we're stood. My son is buried, just over there."

"I know, Brian, and I'm sorry. I _truly, truly_ am." The Doctor told the man, tears welling in his eyes again.

"You know what makes it hurt most, though, Doctor?" Brian asked, voice quiet as tears finally began to fall.

The Doctor shook his head mutely as River rushed to his side and squeezed his hand gently. Anthony moved to stand beside his Grandfather, watching the exchange carefully.

"What hurts the most is that I was the one who told them to go." Brian told them quietly "And now I'll never see them again."


	10. Afterword by Amelia Williams

**A/N: Amy's 'Afterword' transcribed from the actual episode, and is written in italics. In case you hadn't guessed, this is more of a flashback chapter :)**

Amy stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her. She had to write it, she knew she had to write it, and she'd been putting it off for so many years now. Fifty-five years, if she wanted to be precise. Fifty-five years since she had let the Weeping Angel send her back, send her away from her Raggedy Doctor and her daughter, send her to her husband, where she was supposed to be. It had been four years since she'd lost Rory now, four long and lonely years. Amy had never felt more alone in all her time in New York. It hadn't mattered that she and Rory weren't in their proper time stream, that they didn't know anyone, and had no money. Because they'd been together, and that was what was important. They'd clung to the hope for years that the Doctor would return to them, Amy doing so more vocally than Rory. That hope had faded over the years, though, much as Amy's belief in the Raggedy Doctor had done when she was a child. It had become apparent that they had settled for a life in New York, that they wouldn't see the Doctor or their Melody again. That their deaths in that particular time stream were set in stone. Literally. And so, she and Rory had lived out their days together, with their adopted son in their modest home, and tried not to think too much about the fact that Brian, Tabitha and Augustus had never known what had happened to their children, had never gotten to say goodbye. That stung Amy, hurting her deeply although she knew it was no one's fault. She and Rory had made the decision to travel with the Doctor, had known the risks, and yet had still stepped willingly inside his blue box. And their lives had never been the same since. With a sigh, Amy picked up a pen, beginning to write.

_Afterword, by Amelia Williams._

_Hello, old friend, and here we are. You and me, on the last page._

As she wrote, Amy tried hard not to think about what the Doctor would do to the page she was writing now. Fifty-five years ago in her past, and nineteen years into the future, she would stand on Bow Bridge, dropping sticks into the river while the Doctor tore a page- the very page Amy was writing at that moment- from the book and jammed it in the picnic basket, claiming that he always did that, that he 'hated endings'. Sniffing, Amy forced herself back to the present, and continued writing.

_By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well, and were very happy. And above all else, know that we will love you, always._

Amy took a deep breath then, setting the pen aside for a few moments as she tried to pull herself together. Eighty-six years old and she still got upset thinking about the Doctor being alone, being without her and Rory. She'd seen what happened to him when he was alone, and it broke her heart to think that it had happened to him again. But no matter how angry, how out of control, or how downright childish and silly he got, Amy would always love him, because he was _her_ Doctor. Her Raggedy Doctor, her imaginary friend, her childish alien, her son-in-law. He was family. She and Rory had always, and would always, love the Doctor in their own special way, there was no doubting that. But the Doctor, Amy knew, could be blind to things like that, and Amy worried about him. That he'd get himself into too much trouble, that he wouldn't have anyone to hold him back, that he wouldn't have any reason to leave his TARDIS, or travel, or have adventures. The Doctor was never meant to be alone. Because when he was alone, he became dangerous. Not to others, but to himself.

_Sometimes I do worry about you, though. I think once we're gone, you won't be coming back here for a while, and you might be alone, which you should never be. Don't be alone, Doctor._

Staring at the last sentence, Amy wondered briefly whether the Doctor would pay any attention to her words, whether he'd take his advice, or whether he'd hide himself away in his study with his sonic screwdriver, reading books about bowties. And then, a memory surfaced in Amy's mind. It was blurry at first, before it became clearer, and her eyes widened in realisation. Oh, that clever, clever man! And clever, clever her! Because this was the way it was always supposed to be. Hurriedly, Amy began writing again.

_And do one more thing for me. There's a little girl waiting in a garden. She's going to wait a long while, so she's going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her that if she's patient, the days are coming that she'll never forget. Tell her she'll go to sea and fight pirates. She'll fall in love with a man who'll wait two thousand years to keep her safe. Tell her she'll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived, and save a whale in outer space. _

As Amy carefully massaged the cramp out of her arthritis-ridden hand, she gazed over the section she'd just written, a soft smile playing over her lips. She could already tell that the Doctor would do as she instructed, the memories were already surfacing in her brain, of a man who looked like her Raggedy Doctor, but wore a tweed jacket and a bowtie, who appeared in her garden while she was waiting for her imaginary friend. The man had taken her inside, sat her in the kitchen and made her warm milk to warm her up again. And then he'd taken her to her bedroom, tucking her up in bed, and had told her the most fantastical stories. Of how she, Amelia Jessica Pond, would go to outer space, would fight pirates and fall in love. Of how she would save the whole of creation by remembering her Raggedy Doctor and believing in him. Of how the little girl with the fairytale name became the centre of her very own fairytale. Smiling to herself, Amy picked up her pen and finished writing.

_Tell her this is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends._


End file.
